


Celurit

by dinihari (lanternstars)



Series: Rp. 2.000,- [1]
Category: Bumilangit Cinematic Universe, Gundala (2019)
Genre: Gen, LMAO, campursari fic, lancaka if you squint, some pointless headcanon about a jacket, teddy is so done
Language: Bahasa Indonesia
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:01:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21763399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanternstars/pseuds/dinihari
Summary: Kronologi Sancaka dapat baju tarung baru.Bahasa Inggris/Bahasa Indonesia campursari fic, inspired by other authors in the fandom :')
Series: Rp. 2.000,- [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1568500
Kudos: 5





	Celurit

**Author's Note:**

> This was in my folder from September. I was watching Miraculous Ladybug for the past few days and thought to myself "hmm. I miss Gundala" (yes, so random I know)

It's been a few weeks after the serum incident, Sancaka started to patrol every two nights after his shift in The Djakarta Times printing factory ended. He covered a great area around the factory, on the border between North and West Jakarta, but some time he found himself in the heart of the city, despite his attempts to be as inconspicuous as possible. He is still getting used to the routine and his power. Sometimes he's lucky enough to find only petty thieves who stole 24inch TV (seriously, people are still doing that at 2019?) And other times he's not so lucky.

Tonight is one of those nights when the universe is out to get him; he mused, slightly moved to the side, dodging a garden sickle aimed at him by one of the gang members he found under a highway, fighting for power in that district. He usually doesn't intervene fights between gang since it's literally useless—they will fight again in a few months for the same reason—and they did it in deserted places anyway (to avoid getting caught by the police), so he had no worries about establishments around them getting destroyed.

But this one fight is scaring off the homeless or vagrants and beggars who stationed their carts under the highway for the night. These poor people have children who could get hurt if the fight got out of hand. He wonders what will Awang thinks about him now; doing these… deeds. Meddling with other lives like it's his business.

The older boy (man, his mind supplied, but he can't imagine a grown up version of Awang at all) will probably jeered at him and giving him a heavy life advice at the same time. Because he needs it. He also needs his lightning to come… about ...right now?

It's just Sancaka's luck, he slipped on something in the middle of blocking an attack.

Next thing he knows he's on the ground, a big gash wound stretched on his torso. "Sial." He grunted and not a moment later, about half of the men surrounded him, holding him down by kicking and bashing him with crowbars.

"Argh!" He groaned as he heard his left shin cracks when the metal prying tool smashed his leg. He scrunched up his face, biting down his bottom lip at the overwhelming pain registered in his brain. He's grateful that someone punched him at that exact moment too, so that his mind doesn't linger around the agony that he felt.

He just remembered that there are other reasons why he doesn't get in the middle of gang fights. They are relentless. They came in groups of twenty; Heavily armed, with two gangs that means forty or so (that's a lot for just one person, okay, even when they aren't really trained to fight like him). He wasn't going to risk getting beat up because he has not yet managed to consistently conjure up his lightning at will. But right now he needs to step up.

 _Ayo dong._ He prayed before a tingly sensation, a bit painful but he's getting used to it, starts filling his body like a power surge. _Nah, gitu dong!_

He channeled the static that he could feel spreading from the tips of his fingers to the center of his body. And he released it in a burst of lightning. _CTAK! ctak-ctak-ctak CTAK! BLAR!_ The men surrounding him all knocked back a few meters. Some landed on their asses and some had a good make out session with asphalt. And the rest watched in shock.

Sancaka knew his mask was torn at the side to expose the bottom half of his face, because the air doesn't feel stuffy when he heaved his body to stand. _Sial_. He wore a mask so that the preman—no one can't trace him! 

_Yaudahlah ya._ He makes the best of it by spitting out the blood that has been pooling in his mouth. He slides his right foot forward, holding back a wince because he put half of his body weight on his left foot as he adapted the basic stance.

Another crackle of lightning was heard and Sancaka thinks he might as well give them a chance to run.

"Bubar, atau gak kalian saya abisin."

"EH BACOT LU JING!!!" A young man, who is definitely stationed in the back and hadn't participated in assaulting him before, shouted, a belt wrapped around his raised hand. Sancaka clenched his fists harder and stiffened his stance. “SERAAA—”

"BUBAR!!" An indignant yell from one of the men lying on the ground abruptly halted the stampede. It seemed that the leader of one of the groups who lies on his back, trying to get up from his place on the ground. 

"Kalo kita terusin, kita yang mati!" The man explained himself while shuffling away from Sancaka.

Somehow that got both groups to disperse. Lucky him.

* * *

Sancaka moved swiftly through the ground floor of his rusunawa, avoiding security personnel who's busy watching a very prolonged Dangdut Academy program. It's two am and unless they're working at the market, no one is really around to see him on his way to climb up the stairs to his unit. Even if somebody saw him, the dim lights and his leather jacket will manage to conceal the blood that soaked through.

In this part of the city, no one really cares what you're doing to have food at the table anyway.

He leaned his forehead on the door to keep his balance as he reached inside his pocket to fish out his keys. _Masuk..._ Sancaka tried his best to stay awake by warding off his fatigue with rapid blinks. _Tidur..._

The door creaked open but it wasn't his. The key to his unit was still in his hands, dangling from his weakened fingers.

"Akhirnya pulang juga—" 

Sancaka turned to the side, facing Wulan who gasped at the sight of him.

"'Lan." He weakly greeted back.

"Anjir—" She cursed. "Sini lo!" Sancaka could feel his sleeve tugged, urging him to move but his body feels so heavy. A clunking sound and lighter hand indicated that his keys fell on the ground. _Hadeuh… pake acara jatoh..._

"Ayo San," Sancaka could hear Wulan hissed under her breath. He only nodded in response but made no move. _Yaudah, gapapa tidur di lorong juga._ He inwardly scoffed at how his night have turned. _Toh, ga ada yang larang._ He just wanted to sleep.

Then he felt a force pushed him forward and guided him until he met his sofa-bed.

* * *

Sancaka woke up to an upside down Teddy filling up his vision. “AAH!” he squawked in surprise, wrapping the blanket around his shoulder and quickly got up from his lying position. He winced when a pain surged from his left foot. The boy, clearly dressed in red and white for school, frowned at him in pity and disgust, in that exact order.

“Kamu ngapain di sini?” Sancaka asked.

Teddy’s expression possibly turned even sourer at the question. However, before the boy had a chance to reply, Sancaka had caught sight of Wulan. The woman put down two plates of _Nasi Goreng dan Telor_ (something that he’s already familiar with, he wondered maybe this is Wulan’s comfort food—or maybe this is what she can cook the best) on his coffee table then proceed to wipe her hands on the back of her shirt.

“Sarapan dulu, sebelum berangkat sekolah,” Wulan supplied, as she brushed her hands through Teddy’s hair while the boy ignored the rest of the world to focus on eating from the plate that he had picked up.

“Makan, San.” He only stared at Wulan. “Ih! Makaaan!” Wulan crouched and pushed the plate on the table closer to him. “Kamu tuh tadi malem lemes hampir kehabisan darah!”

“Hah?!”

“Iya! Untung kuat. Kalo manusia biasa mah, udah sekarat di trotoar kali.” She said in a reprimanding tone, gesturing his body.

Sancaka averted his gaze down to see his chest and stomach covered in gauze. He almost forgot that Wulan was once a nurse. And she managed to put a cast on his shin, tucking his pants high enough. “Oh...” he muttered out loud then Teddy announced that he’s finished his breakfast.

“Udah mbak!”

“Yaudah yuk, pake tas kamu, kita ke bawah.” When Wulan got up, Sancaka can not help but watched her ushering Teddy out of the room. Probably sensed his gaze, she turned by the door to give him a glare. “Ntar lagi gue balik tu nasi udah harus berkurang ya! Awas lu.” And then she disappeared away from the closed door.

Wulan is a walking contradiction and Sancaka found her fascinating. How could somebody be so fierce and gentle at the same time? It’s like she has much more heroic trait than he is. Shaking the thoughts away, he removed the blanket and picked up the Nasi Goreng. He had only realized he was hungry once he started gulping down the first spoonful of rice. And he continued chewing absentmindedly until his thoughts wandered to his fighting gear, or, to be more specific, the state of it.

Sickle wounds are quite deep, he recalled how once back in his _ngamen_ days he had watched somebody getting slashed. He was sure his chest and stomach probably healed by now, or the wounds at least closed, a nice perk from his supposed power. But he wonders if his gears fared better. He put down the now empty plate and began searching for his jacket around the room.

“Udah selesai makannya?” 

He was shuffling through the folded clothes nearby when Wulan head popped up again from the door frame, making him jump and the top of his head hit the corner of a low wall-mounted cupboard where he stored his books. The woman snickered before schooling her face when he gave her dirty looks. "Orang kejedot malah diketawain," he grumbled.

"Kamu nyariin apa?"

"Jaketku."

"Kamu masih gegar otak kali ya," She said, sounding thoughtful and at the same time, downright sarcastic. "Ya gak mungkinlah aku lipet balik, itu jaket kayak habis di-wantex ulang buat tujubelasan," 

He wanted to retort so bad, that it's not even possible to do what she suggested—then he realized that she's purposely exagerrating. She sighed immediately at his slightly lowered shoulders.

"Aku gantung di kamar mandi, san. Tapi itu udah rusak banget, aku gak yakin bisa dijahit lagi."

She doesn't know that he wanted to keep it anyway. He got it somewhere from one of the thrift shops in Pasar Senen, on the lowest price possible, and he had tried to restore the jacket's dyed leather to a better condition before donning it daily. To say he's indifferent about it would be underestimating how easy Sancaka develops an emotional attachment with inanimate objects. Especially ones that he thoroughly like and have history about.

He moved the hanged piece of clothing and put it near the window, ignoring pointed stare that the woman undoubtedly directed to him at the moment. He fetch a damp, used cloth from the sink and start wiping away stains of blood on the jacket. Inspecting it, he found a glaring gash across the front section of the jacket, yet the zip somehow survived. 

"Kamu perlu baju tarung yang bener dikit san."

He wanted to deny it, really. Everything seems more important than a need for a new gear. He doesn't want to owe anything to a legislative body member who offered it to him either. But a crack in Wulan's voice managed to waver his determination. He relented to ease her worries. Of course he relented. For her.

"Iya deh."

He heard a low, victorious "Yes!" behind him, before the sound of an unlocked smartphone.


End file.
